Listen: Season 1, Episode 4
by bionic4ever
Summary: Season 1, Episode 4: Oscar must send Jaime on her most important and most dangerous mission yet. Is she willing and able to follow his directions or will her headstrong nature prove fatal? A big bionic thank you to The Bionic Project!
1. Prologue

**Listen** – Season One, Episode Four

Prologue

"What is it this time, Oscar?" Steve sighed, staggering bleary-eyed into the office. "You know how much these 3am calls thrill me."

Oscar handed him a cup of coffee. "I need to send Jaime on an assignment."

"Well, it's awfully nice of you to let me know that, but it's the middle of the night," Steve groused.

"It's urgent, Pal."

"Ok....then shouldn't you be talking to _Jaime?"_

"I needed to talk to you first," Oscar told him.

"I've never liked the fact that she's working for you – and you know that – but you've never asked my permission before, so -"

"How's she doing, Steve?"

"She's fine....Oscar, what's going on?"

"This assignment is delicate – and could prove extremely dangerous – so I need to know if you think she's capable -"

"Of course she is," Steve interrupted.

"- of following directions," Oscar finished.

Steve winced. "That....could be a problem."

- - - - -


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

By the time Jaime (who'd been rousted out of her own bed just after falling asleep) had flown across the country, Steve had concluded his impromptu conference with Oscar and been sent home to bed. Oscar was on his second pot of coffee and his nerves were uncharacteristically raw when Jaime finally walked in. She was still relatively new at this and – to her – being summoned in the middle of the night was somewhat exciting. Seeing the look on Oscar's face settled her down instantly, though, putting a different kind of butterflies in her stomach.

"Five days ago," Oscar began, "Rudy and I joined representatives from a half dozen of our closest allies in Colorado Springs for a conference regarding the ethical use of technology in our day-to-day operations. Last night, when the conference was over, we discovered Rudy's own computer had been breached. His security codes were stolen, gaining _someone_ access to his basement archives, where all of his most sensitive files – including yours and Steve's – are stored."

"And the files are missing?" Jaime asked quickly.

"No, but any one – or all – of them could've been copied very quickly. We can**not** let those files be sold or placed into enemy hands." Oscar handed Jaime a photo of a man in his mid-forties, short, slightly stocky, but with a wide grin and a sharp newsboy cap pulled rakishly sideways on his head. "James Monahan," he told her. "A computer/technology expert...and the only attendee to miss the final day of the conference."

"So you've got him in custody?"

"Not yet. We have no evidence that he's done anything other than take a pass on the final day and fly home early. However, we have tracked him to a hotel just outside of Athens. Greece is _not_ his home country, and we need to find out exactly what he's up to. He may have been forced to breach our security systems and he's now in serious danger himself, or -"

"Or he may be preparing to make the sale of a lifetime," Jaime concluded.

"Right. And that's where you come in."

"I'm going to Greece?"

"This is a very delicate situation, Jaime. He could be on his own, working freelance, or he could be under the control of any number of foreign entities."

"Or....he may be completely innocent."

"He's the best lead we've got. I need you to find out exactly what Monahan is up to, who his contacts are....and recover Rudy's files before they pass into anyone else's hands. You'll need all of your skills....intelligence, speed and especially your ear – which is why I'm not sending Steve."

"Here I thought you'd say something like 'Only you, with your extraordinary people skills...'," Jaime said lightly. "But you're only lovin' me for my ear."

"I have the utmost faith in you, Babe. Your instincts are every bit as good as Steve's. And Monahan may loosen more easily in a woman's company. So you're the only agent who can handle this. All of the background information you'll need is in this file. Your plane leaves as soon as we're done here."

"No pressure there..." Jaime mused.

"There's one more thing. This situation could be volatile. We don't know how many foreign countries or terrorist cells could be involved. The investigation may have to take a 180-degree turn, or be aborted completely and re-strategized, at any moment. I'll need you to stay in touch with me and with this office – your ear should detect any wiretaps – and be ready to change direction immediately if I tell you to do that."

It was the moment of truth. What would Jaime think about working under tight control? In the past few weeks, she had balked under much less strenuous supervision than he was now asking her to endure. Under stress, she had run off to handle things her own way. (Granted, she'd handled it well, but Oscar could leave nothing to chance, especially now.) He looked at her with dark, serious eyes, awaiting the possible explosion.

There was none. Jaime took the file quietly and rose to her feet. "Alright," she replied. "Let's do this."

- - - - -


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"I'm at the hotel, Oscar," Jaime said, dutifully reporting in as requested. "And my phone is safe – at least for now."

"That's great, Babe," Oscar told her. "Let me know as soon as you find Monahan."

"Will do. Bye." She was tired from the long flight (and lack of sleep the night before) but knew she'd never find her quarry holed up in her room. Jaime tied a sarong over her bikini and donned a huge, touristy straw hat since – until Rudy invented bionic tanning lotion – sun was not her friend, and then headed for the hotel coffee shop.

She sipped her coffee slowly, taking in the atmosphere while listening closely to everything her ear picked up. The hotel was huge: one story that sprawled out across a long, sandy beach, with a tower of rooms that went straight up the center. It was a study in contrasts; the outer ring had a sort of Casablanca-ish feel, while the middle stuck out like an uninvited afterthought.

A squeal from the beach, followed by a sharp reprimand, drew Jaime's attention out the window....but was only a mother reining in a toddler who'd gone too close to the shore. A woman a few tables over had just informed the man at her side that they were expecting....but soap operas were never Jaime's favorite thing. There were so many different languages floating through her earspace, some angry, some subdued, but nothing that sounded like a deal being made. A voice she thought sounded familiar (but couldn't quite place) was ordering a drink and the beach bar and, curious, she headed outside.

The mid-day crowd was thick, and Jaime heard nothing more of the possibly-familiar voice so she wandered down to the shore, stuck her toes in and eyed the people around her. As she headed toward the beach bar, poking up between two sets of shoulders, she spotted the same bright red cap she'd seen in the photo. She adopted her best imitation of a casual tourist and headed in the cap's direction. Sure enough, it was Monahan. He was alone, clutching his newly-purchased drink and looking slightly nervous.

"That looks really good," she said lightly. "What's it called?"

"Blue Moon," Jaime's target told her, his eyes darting across the beach and back. He finally looked fully toward Jaime....and smiled. "Like one, Baby?"

"Sure," she replied, her heart pounding. As Monahan returned with another drink, a new thought occurred to Jaime. _If_ this man had copied Rudy's files...did he know who she was? Could he be playing her while she was playing him? "Thank you," she said simply, accepting the bright blue concoction.

"Couple of chairs over there," he said, motioning toward some open seats. "You wanna sit down?"

"Okay." Jaime followed him to the chosen perch, noticing the way his eyes never stopped scanning across the sand. _What_ – or _who_ – was he looking for....?

- - -

:I'm really sorry about last night, Pal," Oscar told Steve, "but I really needed your input, _before_ I talked to Jaime."

"So you sent another agent, I'm guessing?" Steve asked, accepting and lighting one of Oscar's cigars.

"No....I sent Jaime."

"Oscar -!" Steve nearly choked on his first puff of smoke.

"She's fully competent," Oscar insisted. "She can handle this."

"IF she follows your directions," Steve pointed out, "which we've already agreed might be a problem!"

"Send me in instead," Steve proposed.

"If you had Jaime's hearing – and looked better in a bikini – I might," Oscar argued. "But she's already there, and has hopefully got her sights on Monahan as we speak..."

- - -

Monahan was a pro at small talk, and Jaime played along. "So...where are you from?" he asked.

"New York, born and raised," she fibbed. "You?"

"I'm from Ireland."

_Funny..._Jaime thought, _not a trace of Irish brogue....and your file says England...._ "Is your wife vacationing with you?" she asked, feigning flirtatiousness.

"Nope – I'm all alone here. And since having dinner alone is not any fun, would you care to join me? That is, if you're alone, as well."

"My boyfriend stayed back in the States....and what he doesn't know won't hurt him. I'd love to."

- - -

"She's having dinner with Monahan," Oscar announced, hanging up the phone.

"I sure hope she knows what she's doing...." Steve mused quietly.

"I'm sure she does." Jaime hadn't told him about the possibly-familiar voice. She'd reasoned that, since she saw no one she knew, there was no point in getting Oscar all riled up. Most likely, she'd thought, it was only her imagination.

- - - - -


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

James Monahan proved to be an entertaining dinner companion. His stories of bug-collecting as a young boy had Jaime laughing out loud. She did notice, however, that he mentioned nothing about technology or computers, and the more she listened to him, the more his English seemed.....stilted, as though it might not be his primary language. Still, he was jovial, pleasant and appeared quite benign. He was also a perfect gentleman, kissing her hand when the meal was over and seeing her safely into the elevator.

On her way through the lobby, Jaime thought she heard the same voice that had been so maddeningly familiar earlier – this time talking to a bellhop about a piece of luggage – but when she turned around, the voice and its owner were gone. Still, she was positive now; she the voice well. But...who was it?

"Oscar?" she began, dutifully phoning in a report.

"Hi, Babe; how was dinner?"

"We talked about spiders, butterflies and....never mind," Jaime told him. "Not a word about computers, though, and when I asked him what he did for a living, he told me he sold insurance."

"Insurance? Anything else?"

"Yeah....I think English might be his second language. His file says he's English, he says he's Irish, and I'd be willing to bet he's neither of the above."

"Good work, Jaime; keep at it."

"I will. Oh – one more thing." She hesitated – would Oscar think she was crazy? "I heard a voice this morning – a man's voice – that I know I've heard before, but I just can't place it."

"Oh?"

"I couldn't find out who it was, but I heard him again tonight – talking about luggage."

"Luggage?" Oscar frowned, alarming Steve who was still seated nearby. "Be very careful, Babe. If this is someone we know, you may have been followed. Or there could be a leak from the inside. When you do find out who he is, _do NOT_ approach him. Report back to me immediately and we'll decide what to do."

"Okay."

Oscar was about to say good night when he noticed the look on Steve's face. "Jaime? There's someone else here who'd like to talk to you." He handed Steve the phone.

"Hi, Sweetheart," he said lightly. "I'm not sure how I feel about you having dinner with strange men..."

Jaime laughed, knowing he was kidding. "It's really good to hear your voice," she told him.

"Sounds like you might be onto something already," Steve noted.

"I think I am – a couple of somethings, actually."

"That's great. And you're telling Oscar everything.....right?"

"Of course," she promised. Jaime was about to say more when she heard an ominous clicking sound begin on the line. "I've gotta go, _George,_" she said quickly. "I'll call you when I can." Before Steve could say anything more, she hung up the phone.

"Something's wrong," Steve told Oscar, staring at the now-dead receiver.

"What happened?"

"She called me George...and then hung up the phone."

Oscar grimaced. "Her line is tapped."

"I figured that out already!" Steve snapped angrily, then took a deep breath; it certainly wasn't Oscar's fault. "I wanna go in after her."

"Jaime will find a pay phone – or maybe change rooms. We just need to wait for her to call back. She's fine, Pal; she'll handle it."

"But she could be in trouble! I can't just sit here and wait!"

"If this really was an inside job, I'll be needing you _here,_" Oscar insisted. "Sending you to Greece now will only draw too much attention to the both of you."

"But -"

"I need you here," he repeated. "Jaime is smart, she's capable – and she had the best two trainers in the business: us. Let's have a little faith here. If she doesn't call within the hour, we'll have her paged to the front desk."

Steve didn't think he could wait that long. "An hour might be too late..."

- - - - -


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Jaime stared at the phone as if it were on fire, allowing herself one brief moment of fear before rationality and good sense kicked in. Moving quickly, she swept through her room, listening closely. Other than the phone, it appeared to be bug-free. Not reassured enough for her liking, she headed down to the lobby to request a different room.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am....we're completely full right now. Perhaps in a day or two -"

Jaime asked to be notified as soon as something changed and turned around – smack into James Monahan. "Lisa!" he greeted, using her cover name. (Oscar had displayed rare humor in obtaining her passport.) "I thought you were on your way to bed," he noted. "Is there something wrong, Baby?"

"I just....couldn't sleep," Jaime told him. Thinking fast, she added "I think I need a drink."

"I would be honored to help you with that," he offered.

"Great," she said, allowing him to take her arm and lead her into the bar.

Jaime tried to relax, accepting the proffered drink with the best smile she could manage.

"You are too beautiful a woman to look so worried," Monahan told her in his stilted, slightly awkward English. "What troubles you so late at night?"

Jaime shrugged innocently. "I dunno; I think I might just be a little homesick. Never been away all by myself before. Not even across the country..."

"And you are here – halfway across the world," Monahan noted. "What brought you here, Lisa, to these shores?"

"My best friend came here last year and loved it. I needed a break, so.....what about you, James? Why are you here?" she asked bluntly, assuming (correctly) that he'd had another drink or two in her absence.

"I had a big sale lined up, but the buyer appears to have changed his mind. He has not appeared."

"I'm so sorry. How long are you staying?"

"I am hoping for a flight out tomorrow."

Jaime knew she should've called Oscar back by now, but she was on a roll and didn't want to blow the opportunity to hear her quarry's plans. "Maybe we could have brunch before you go?" she suggested.

"That would be a pleasure." His eyes scanned the crowd again; he was obviously still looking for (or watching out for) _someone._

"James, are you here with someone?" Jaime probed boldly. "Who do you keep looking for?"

"I am still hoping for my buyer to arrive," he told her, then quickly finished with "because it would be very shameful for his family to remain unprotected. My coverage would definitely benefit him in many ways."

_All the way to Greece to sell insurance?_ Jaime thought. _Must be one helluva policy. Just how dumb do you think I am....?_ "You know, this drink really helped. I'll meet you in the lobby at ten for brunch, okay?"

"I will look forward to ten o'clock," he told her, rising to his feet and gallantly kissing her hand. Jaime smiled sweetly and headed back toward the elevators.

- - -

"If you don't sit down, Pal," Oscar said as gently as possible, "you'll wear a path in my carpet."

"Where IS she....?" Steve worried, unable to settle his nerves. "She should've called by now."

"She's _working,_" Oscar reminded him, picking up the phone. When he reached the hotel, he asked the desk clerk to page Lisa Winters to the front desk and then forward the call back to him. The clerk agreed. "Try not to worry, Pal," he said to Steve. Oscar only wished he could follow his own advice.

- - -

Jaime pressed the elevator's call button and just as the doors slid open, she heard the page from the desk. Inside was the face connected to that familiar voice...and Jaime froze. She couldn't believe she'd failed to recognize it. His "research grant in Europe" had obviously been a lie.

"Jaime!" he said brightly, pulling her into the elevator. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Jaime tried to force a smile. "Hello, Michael."

- - - - -


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Jaime was confused. A couple of months earlier, Michael had asked her to marry him. He'd said he was leaving the US to do research abroad and wanted her by his side. _Possibly France or Italy,_ he'd told her at the time. What the hell was he doing in _Greece?_ Still, he'd professed his love for her – and he _had_ saved her life – so Jaime hoped fervently that this one just one of those really strange coincidences....

"It's really good to see you," he told her in that smooth, suave voice. "I've missed you, Jaime."

"How's the research coming?" she probed gently.

"I'm taking a break. When the words start looking like tiny bugs crawling across the page, it's time for a vacation." Then the doctor in him seemed to take over. "How are you feeling? Any more problems? Are you back to work yet?"

Jaime noted that they had passed her floor (she'd never pressed the button), gone all the way to the top and were now headed back toward the lobby. "Yeah, Oscar's got me back at it." She thought better of what she'd just said. "Been working so hard that he actually offered me a vacation."

"That's pretty rare," Michael noted. "Savor it." The elevator door reopened to the lobby and Michael gestured toward the bar. "Buy you a drink?" he offered. "For old times' sake?"

Suddenly, Jaime was not tired any longer. She only half-heard the second page to the front desk as she and Michael headed for the bar.

- - -

"We have to give her a little more time," Oscar insisted, trying to calm a very worried Steve. "She may be in the middle of something, and -"

"And that's exactly what I'm worried about! What if she's in the middle of something she doesn't know how to get out of....?"

"She's a very intelligent woman, Steve."

"I _have_ to go in there!"

Oscar shook his head adamantly. "I understand how hard this is for you, not knowing what's happening over there, but we need to let Jaime handle it. I trust her implicitly – and I don't want her to think otherwise. She'll call us when she can." To himself, he added _And it had better be soon!_

- - -

Michael hesitated. "Are you still...with Steve?"

"On and off," Jaime lied. (The mere mention of his name sent butterflies fluttering through her heart, but Michael didn't need to know that. At least, not yet.)

Michael nodded. "Is he good to you?"

"You know he is," Jaime confirmed.

"I'm glad. And Rudy....how is he?"

This was starting to feel like a weird game of cat-and-mouse. Jaime decided to play it on the side of caution. "Haven't seen him in a few weeks, but I guess he's okay."

"Good to hear," Michael said smoothly. "I'll bet he'd find my research....very enlightening."

"The use of computer imagery in medical analysis. It'd come in especially handy with you and Steve."

'Lisa Winters' was paged to the lobby for the third time, but Jaime didn't want Michael to know that she was actually undercover so she didn't react. _Sorry, Oscar,_ she thought silently. "It sounds fascinating," she told Michael.

"It really is. I have some of my most recent work up in my room, if you'd like to take a look...."

Was this a come-on....or a trap? Either way, Jaime wasn't biting. "Maybe tomorrow; I'm pretty beat."

"See you up to your room?" Michael offered.

"Thanks, but I'll be okay." Jaime got up and passed through the lobby – where James Monahan was casually reading a newspaper until he saw her walk by...with Michael right behind her. He immediately sprang to his feet and then apparently reconsidered, sitting back down again. Jaime pressed the elevator call button and Michael followed her inside. Before she could press the floor button, Michael pressed it for her.

_How does he know which floor I'm on....?_ she wondered. _Another weird coincidence, or...?_ Silently, she pushed a different button, got off on the wrong floor and doubled back – once she was sure he was gone.

- - - - -


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

There was no way Jaime was sleeping now! She returned once more to the front desk. "Excuse me," she began, "but could you tell me which room Doctor Marchetti is in, please?"

"I'm very sorry," the clerk told her, "but we are not allowed to give out information regarding our guests."

"This is urgent," Jaime persisted. Thinking on her feet, she pulled a gold pen (her own) from her purse. "He left this at our table and he's leaving first thing in the morning. I know he wants it back, so -"

"I can see that he gets it, Miss....?"

"Winters, Lisa Winters."

"Oh – Miss Winters! You have an urgent message from the United States! It's from a Mr. Goldman; he requests that you call him – from here at the desk – immediately." She turned the phone around, placing it where Jaime could reach it.

"Please notify him for me that I'm very busy now and will have to call him later." At the clerk's inquisitive look, she added "I'll reach him just as soon as I possibly can. And you'll see that Doctor Marchetti gets his Grandfather's pen back?"

"Of course, Ma'am. I'll take care of everything," the clerk assured.

"Thank you." Jaime headed back in the direction of the elevators, stopping just outside of the clerk's line of vision and listening carefully.

"Take this to Doctor Marchetti in room 816," she heard the clerk instruct the bellboy. Smiling smugly to herself, Jaime boarded the elevator and pushed number eight.

- - -

"That's ridiculous!" Oscar thundered into the phone, then lowered his voice to a more reasonable tone. "Please page her again and tell her that 'later' is not an option. Thank you." He hung up the phone and turned to Steve.

"I'm going to Greece?" Steve guessed.

"You're going to Greece."

- - -

Jaime got off on the eighth floor and lingered at the end of the hallway....listening. It all fit: Michael asking the bellboy about a certain piece of luggage, Monahan acting so nervous all day and nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw Michael, and (of course) Michael's careful questions to her about herself, her work...and Rudy.

The sound of a crying baby was first to reach her ear, along with the soft lilt of a mother's lullaby. A loud party halfway down the hall was probably keeping the infant awake; it was certainly inhibiting Jaime's ability to hear much of anything else. Concentrating hard, she tuned out the revelers and listened more closely to the smaller, less obvious sounds.

Jaime heard what sounded like a briefcase being open and then closed and locked, but it was so hard to tell which of sixteen rooms it came from. Idly, she watched the elevator floor indicator return to lobby level and then head back up. Unexpectedly, the door opened directly in front of her – and a shocked James Monahan froze in his place.

"Lisa? What would you be doing up here?"

Jaime quickly jumped onto the elevator. There were no other buttons pressed. _This_ had been his destination. "I guess I wasn't paying attention – got off on the wrong floor," she explained, faking a tipsy sort of giggle. It seemed to placate him. Together, they rode back to the main level, where Jaime got off but her quarry did not.

The hallway to the stairs was empty, so Jaime ran down at bionic speed and vaulted up the steps, floor by floor, stopping to peer through the little window at the far end of the eighth floor – just in time to see Monahan enter Michael's room.

Once again, she heard herself being paged to the lobby, with the clerk's voice sounding urgent and insistent. But things were happening _right now,_ and the last thing she had time to do was make a phone call. With any luck, it would soon be all over....

- - - - -


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

_Oh, Michael...._Jaime thought sadly, inching a little closer to the door. _What are you doing? What have you __done__?..._

"Where is my money?" Monahan was saying through what sounded like clenched teeth. "I did exactly what you asked. I left the conference early and flew here to meet you. Now I want my money."

Michael's laugh sent a chill down Jaime's spine. "You're an idiot – a pawn! Don't you see that yet? And now you're nothing more than an irritant. I strongly suggest you leave, if you'd like to keep breathing. The OSI already has an agent in place – right here in this hotel – ready to take you down. That should keep you safe. For now, anyway."

"He has no proof! I have done nothing wrong!" Monahan insisted. "I want my money – and then I will go."

"He is a _she_, irritant. You know what we do with irritants in the States? We _exterminate_ them!"

Jaime moved right up to the door. For a very long moment, all was quiet....until the cocking of a gun. "You – you are crazy," Monahan whispered.

"Walk out the door right now," Michael ordered, "let the little lady find you and go to prison quietly. _Or_ you can stay here....and die."

Jaime couldn't let it play out any further. With one good, solid kick she sent pieces of door flying into the hotel room. "That was a big mistake, Jaime," Michael growled, grabbing her tightly around the waist and pulling her further into the room – with the gun pressed hard into her ribcage. Monahan cowered in the corner, not quite believing what he'd just witnessed. The room had no door!

"Well, we can't stay here now, can we?" Michael growled. "And I'd imagine since 'Lisa' hasn't answered her pages, they'll be looking for you soon." His eyes darted wildly – crazily – back and forth, then came to rest on Monahan. "We're going to your room. I'm sure you registered under the fake name I gave you.....now you lead the way, and if you try anything, _she_ won't be so pretty anymore."

"You won't hurt me, Michael," Jaime tried to reason as they started down the hallway.

"Why not? You hurt me." Jaime shivered at the tone of his voice; this was no longer the Michael she'd known and – almost – loved. The trio stepped alone into the elevator, and Michael kept his death-grip on Jaime. "You shouldn't have come here, Jaime. Now I'll have to do something we'll both regret."

"Michael," Jaime said softly, "why don't you let him go? You said yourself he's nothing but a pawn...." Jaime winced as the gun barrel sank deeper into her belly.

"Shut up!" the person-who-used to-be-Michael demanded. "I need to think..." They reached Monahan's floor and Michael herded his two captives inside, closing the door and locking the bolt. "Sit down," he told Monahan. "Jaime, tear that extra blanket into strips and tie him up. Do it _now!_" He released his hold on her and shoved her roughly toward the linen shelf. With no other immediate options, Jaime complied. "Good. Now you sit on the bed – and _do NOT move._"

"Michael," Jaime pleaded softly, "think about what you're doing. This isn't you -"

"This is what YOU made me, Jaime. _You_ caused this....you and Steve. We could've been happy together, but you made the wrong choice – and left me with no choice at all!"

"You're a doctor, for God's sake....you _save_ lives!" Jaime protested.

"And you took care of that, didn't you? I left Rudy's practice for you! Hell, I was willing to leave _medicine_ for you...!"

"I'm...sorry...." Jaime said, very quietly. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

Michael strode over to the phone. "I'd better let my buyers know I have something far more interesting than a few files for them now." Still holding the gun poised and ready, and with eyes that glowed from evil born of the deepest pain....Michael picked up the receiver and dialed.

- - - - -


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Being sold (and more specifically, what would happen to her afterward) was Jaime's greatest fear. She _had_ to keep Michael from making that call! "You don't need the money," she hedged, "so why are you _really_ doing this?"

"Everyone needs money, Jaime."

"You said _I_ caused this," Jaime continued, while she had his attention away from the phone. "But you didn't know I'd be showing up here. What's this really about, Michael?"

Michael laughed bitterly. "I guess I can tell you that now. You won't be sharing it with anyone." He retrieved his briefcase from the closet and cracked it open. Inside, there were no files, no top secret papers, just a set of....handcuffs. "_This_ is my research project – what I've been working on all these weeks, ever since you dumped me for that overgrown Ken-Doll-on-steroids." He walked over to the bed and dangled them menacingly in her face.

"Leave her alone!" Monahan snapped from across the room.

Michael ignored him. "I didn't need to steal Rudy's files....and I didn't! Hell, I know what's in most of them anyway! I could sell those 'secrets' from memory, if I had the mind to....which I don't."

"Then what -?" Jaime was genuinely confused.

"I needed Oscar to _think_ security had been breached. So yes, I snuck in while everyone was at that damned conference, mucked up his computer and used his code to open the vault in the basement. But....I took nothing."

"I....don't understand...."

"Our friend over there -" he gestured toward Monahan with the barrel of the gun, "did exactly what he was supposed to. He made a trail straight to this hotel. Except, Oscar wasn't supposed to send you.....he was supposed to send _Steve._"

The horrible truth dawned like blinding light in Jaime's eyes, but she stayed silent, letting Michael talk.

"You get it now, don't you? The files were just a ruse to get Steve to Greece....and the buyers to come here where they'd see something they'd _really_ pay good money for. Then I could've returned to the States to console you in your terrible loss, millions of dollars richer. Happy ending all around. Now, unfortunately, they'll have to be a different ending...." Michael snapped the cuffs around Jaime's wrists, binding them behind her back. "They're made of a very special titanium/lead compound. Even you can't break them, Jaime. You'll only hurt yourself if you try. I designed them for Steve, but they'll work just as well on you."

Jaime struggled not to let him see her fear. "Is it worth it, Michael? You're willing to throw it all away...for this?"

"What have I got to go back to?" he asked bitterly. "Now I need to let some people know the 'shipment' has arrived. Then let the bidding begin!"

This time, Michael made the call.

- - -

Somewhere over the Atlantic, Steve was wide awake. Too many horrific pictures flashed through his mind if he tried to close his eyes. His heart already knew that Jaime was in trouble; he just hoped she'd be able to find a way out of it – or at least hold on until he got there.

- - -

Jaime managed to curl the fingers of her right hand around the chain between the cuffs, and Michael wasn't lying; they were solid. Her heart pounding wildly, she weighed her options. There weren't many. She could jump off the bed, kick open the door and run, but to where? Steve and Oscar had made sure early on that she knew she could NOT outrun a bullet. And pushing an elevator button would be difficult in her current predicament. She could try and kick the gun from Michael's hand, but with her arms secured behind her she would be off-balance and would only get one try before he took his best shot. She'd tied Monahan as loosely as she thought she could get away with, but he was obviously terrorized. Jaime knew she couldn't count on his help.

She was on her own....and had absolutely no idea what to do.

- - - - -


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"I have to go out now," Michael told his captives once he'd finished on the phone. He brought the briefcase closer to where Jaime sat, propped up by pillows with her arms behind her, on the bed. "Just in case you have ideas about kicking the door down...." Michael removed a second, larger pair of restraints and shackled Jaime's feet. "The things I could do to you now..." he said, practically drooling. "Unfortunately, there's no time for that." He looked over at Monahan, then back at Jaime. "Have fun, you two – it'll be a _real_ party when I get back. And guess who'll be the guest of honor?"

Jaime listened as Michael's footsteps faded down the hall and into the elevator. "Are you alright?" she asked Monahan.

"Yes. Who _are_ you?"

"Who are _you?"_ Jaime shot back. She'd made her point; Monahan didn't answer. Carefully, she tested the chains between her ankle cuffs – solid, just as Michael had told her. She was trapped. While she was doing that, though, James Monahan managed to free his hands....and then his legs. Instead of running for the door, he turned to Jaime.

"I might not know who you are, but I saw what you are able to do – and he needs to be stopped. Is what he said true? You are able to break metal?"

Jaime had no choice but to trust him. She nodded. "Not this metal, though."

"But other metals. Can you bend as well as break them?"

What was he getting at? Again, Jaime nodded. "Yes."

Monahan went into the bathroom and quickly returned with several metal shower curtain rings. "That doctor took the keys," he told Jaime, "but I can open _any_ lock....and these appear to be the right size. Lean forward, please."

Puzzled but encouraged, Jaime did as requested and Monahan placed one of the rings between her fingers. "Try and twist this straight," he told her. "Then I will need the slightest of hooks to be bent onto one end. Jaime tried to twist it as he'd asked, but without being able to see it, she managed only a mangled clump of metal.

"That is alright. I brought several more," he told her, handing her another one. Precious time was ticking by but Jaime forced herself to concentrate and not rush.

"Why does he wish to sell you – and to who?" Monahan asked while Jaime worked on the rings.

"I can't tell you that."

"He is...a slave trader?"

Jaime grimaced. "Worse." She was growing frustrated; each try produced something between a shapeless blob and a metal pretzel.

On her fourth try, Monahan was satisfied. "This should be right," he assured her. "I will try."

Jaime held her breath, almost not daring to hope, and – good to his word – he released her arms! "Will it work on the other lock, too?" she asked, stretching her left arm to try and return its circulation. It was sore, but none the worse for the experience.

"I am very good at this," he promised. It took several minutes, but sure enough, that lock snapped open as well, and Jaime was quickly on her feet. As they approached the door, Jaime could hear the elevator, several floors down but moving upward.

"I think he's coming," she told Monahan, pulling him toward the window. "Don't ask me any questions and just trust me, ok?" Her companion nodded silently, his eyes wide. They got even wider as Jaime opened the window and pulled him out onto the ledge, while she thanked her lucky stars his room was only on the third floor. A stretch, but they'd probably make it – and it was a far sight better than what would happen back in the room! And....the doorknob was turning!

Without preamble or an explanation (that would've panicked him anyway), Jaime picked up the stout little man, took a deep breath....and jumped.

- - - - -


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Monahan's mouth gaped with shock. "How did you....?"

Jaime grabbed him by the shoulders and stared straight into his eyes, needing him to 'get it' on the first take. "I want you to go straight to the front desk – RUN there – have them call Interpol and tell them it's a Code Snow White. Then get them to take you to the Security office and wait for me there."

"But -"

"_Ask later – do it NOW!"_ As soon as she saw him hurry off in the right direction, Jaime took off toward the beach bar – and its pay phone. She thought even Michael wouldn't try to shoot her among a crowd of people....but she was wrong. No one noticed her rapid flight across the sand since they had all hit the ground at the sound of the first bullet. Jaime dodged and weaved, yelling "Everybody down!" Miraculously, most of the shots missed her entirely...until the last one winged her in the leg. She almost went down, but the pay phone was in sight and – running solely on adrenaline – she made it.

"I need a coin!" she called to the bartender who was hiding on the sand behind his bar. Jaime slipped it in the slot and gave the operator the number. Her eyes never stopped scanning the beach but people had begun getting up and were running screaming back into the hotel. There was no sign of Michael.

"Jaime? Is that you, Babe?"

Jaime's heart panged with guilt when she heard the worry in Oscar's voice. "It's me," she confirmed, fear making it hard to catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" To himself, he thought _Why is she out of breath when she's bionic? What's going on out there?"_ "Jaime...?"

"It's.....Michael," Jaime told him. "He's been behind...all of this....to kill Steve."

"_What?"_

"And he almost killed me!" Jaime concluded. Then came the difficult part. "Oscar....I need help...."

"Steve's already on his way; he'll be there in an hour or so."

Jaime looked back across the beach; she had company coming. "I don't have an hour!" she said quickly. Oscar's near-frantic replies, calling to her, went unheard. Jaime had dropped the phone.

The beach was deserted (even the bartender and lifeguards had fled) as Michael and four severe-looking men strode briskly toward her. "Don't run Jaime," Michael called. "It's over." On the still-open phone line, Oscar was hearing every word. "I can sell you just as easily dead, you know."

Jaime turned to run....and her leg gave out with an ugly sizzle. She angled herself just right to fall behind the bar and came up with two soda nozzles in each hand, firing all four simultaneously at her potential assassins. It slowed them only temporarily, and she was forced to duck as the bar was peppered with gunfire. Aiming blindly, throwing bottles, glasses – anything she could find – in the direction of the fast-approaching men, she warded them off until she heard the click-click sound that meant each one had run out of bullets.

Still, Jaime didn't dare stand up – and wasn't sure if she could. Her leg was trembling violently, most of its strength (and her ability to control it) were gone. In another instant, Michael had her by the arm and jerked her roughly to her feet.

But Jaime hadn't made it this far to simply give up without a fight. Furiously, she swung her right arm back and connected with the side of Michael's head, sending him crashing into his cohorts and all five men tumbled over each other into the sand.

"_Nobody move!"_ came the call from across the beach. More than a dozen Interpol agents swarmed the beach bar like flies, descending upon the fallen men and forcing them into custody.

"You alright, Ma'am? We contacted Goldman's office when we got the Code, and they told us to look after you." one of the agents said, kneeling down beside Jaime.

"I think so...just my leg..." Jaime murmured, somewhat in shock from all that had happened. The agent caught her as the adrenaline finally wore off and she collapsed with relief.

- - - - -


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Oscar arrived in Greece several hours after Steve. Jaime had gotten the chance to rest and eat, and Steve had jury-rigged her leg so she could at least walk on it. It would hold her until she could see Rudy again. Oscar had come to ensure Michael's return to the States went smoothly, but first he had other business to attend to.

"Good morning," he said, greeting Jaime and Steve as they entered the small hotel conference room.

"Oscar, I am so sorry..." Jaime began, the second she saw him.

Inwardly, Oscar smiled but his face remained business-like and stern. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Shall I make a list?" Jaime asked.

"Please do."

"Well...I disobeyed a direct order...."

Oscar nodded. "Yes, you did."

"And I didn't call in when I was supposed to, and....I ignored all those pages."

"Anything else?"

"I think that about covers it," Jaime told him softly.

"And what do you suppose I should do about that?" Oscar asked. (It was so hard to be stern with her!)

"Am I fired?" Jaime gulped.

Steve chuckled. "Sweetheart, if it were that easy to get out of the OSI, I'd have done it years ago."

Oscar shot Steve a look – _Not helpful, Pal_ – and looked at Jaime with serious eyes. "Well, you do seem to realize the...ah...error of your ways, so I'm not going to fire you. But this was a very bad situation and it could have been much, _much_ worse. I think my only choice is...." Oscar paused for dramatic effect. "To banish you."

"_Banish_ me?" Jaime was stunned. What was he talking about?

Finally, Oscar smiled. "You're in Greece, Steve's in Greece, the weather is beautiful – and in spite of all you did wrong, you wrapped this case up with a nice, tidy red ribbon. I'm _proud_ of you, Babe, and I think you deserve a vacation. As long as you're not in any pain, Babe, Rudy said it will be fine. I'll see you both back in Washington in one week."

- - -

"You know you had a really close call," Steve said, holding Jaime in his arms as they watched the sunset play across the water.

"Yeah....Michael really had me scared."

"I meant with Oscar," Steve chuckled, kissing her. "He'd have kicked my butt to the moon and back."

Jaime rested her head on Steve's shoulder and sighed contentedly. "I don't think so. Besides....you'd probably never ignore a direct order."

"Oh, really?" Steve joked. "And just where did _you_ learn it from, then?"

Jaime looked up into Steve's eyes – and melted. _Is this what it feels like...to fall in love?_ she wondered to herself. "I guess I had a good teacher," she told him, giving him a soft, lingering kiss. "Here's to a lot more lessons...."

END OF EPISODE FOUR


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